


Without Question

by gubby



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Begging, Consensual Somnophilia, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, ONE use of female pronoun, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn with Feelings, Somnophilia, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, caustic calls reader rabbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gubby/pseuds/gubby
Summary: Caustic is overcome with desire and love for you at the most inopportune times. Luckily, you don't mind.
Relationships: Caustic | Alexander Nox/Reader
Kudos: 36





	Without Question

Caustic is a fickle man. He wants things to be precisely as he intends them to be. He strives for nothing if not accuracy in his results. 

Caustic is not the most attentive lover. To this, he’ll freely admit. He sometimes wonders, deep in his work, why you waste your time with him. He adores you, of course. You make him feel things he’d not thought himself capable of for many years. But there are only so many hours in a day, and he’s unable, and sometimes unwilling, to devote many of them to you. When he does occasionally make his way to bed in odd hours of the night, he’s too exhausted to do much more than throw an arm over you and pass out. 

But when he’s decided he wants you, there’s little that can stand in his way. 

Make no mistake. One word from you, and it could all be over. But therein is another thing he adores about you— you never feel the need. There are times when he gets into these obsessive moods— where he’s as fascinated by your body as he is by his work. 

And what a responsive body it is. So willing and pliant for him. And he doesn’t take it for granted. So rarely is he afforded the pleasure of working with willing subjects. Given the unpredictable and often untimely nature of these moods, the two of you reach an agreement— that he can take you as he pleases, when he pleases. 

Which is how you’ve woken up tonight, slowly, with a burning pleasure building in your gut after a few pleasant dreams. When you’re finally able to will your eyes to stay open, you glance down your body and are met with an acidic green gaze, the feel of Alexander’s facial hair rough against your thighs. He sucks at your clit with an obscene wet sound before parting, making you whine. 

“And so she wakes,” he murmurs, finger catching at your hole shallowly as he admires his own handiwork. Your cunt is glistening, a sizable wet spot decorating the sheets beneath your hips. “Even unconscious you manage to be so…  _ wonderfully  _ responsive to my touch. An ideal specimen.”

He pushes his finger in with no resistance, stroking at that little soft spot within you with practiced precision, the place that makes his rabbit tremble. You tense nicely around his finger in a way that makes his cock throb. 

“How many times do you think you’ve cum from my touch tonight, dear? Be honest,” he cautions, working his thumb against your clit in a way that makes you squirm against the firm hold he has on your hip.

“T-twice?” you huff, in a haze of sleepiness and pleasure clouding your thoughts.

“Close,” you hear him grin, “but not quite. This one will be your fourth, dearest. Seeing as you’re awake,” he rocks his fingers slowly through your slick, savoring the obscene, wet noises that are coming from your cunt under his ministrations. “I’ll let you decide how you want it. Would you like it from my tongue, my fingers? Or…”

You hear him hoisting himself up, followed by the light rustle of some fabric. A hot, heavy weight comes to rest on your stomach, and you yelp quietly at the sensation, much to Caustic’s amusement. You’re surprisingly reactive for someone who’s just woken up. A low laugh rumbles through his chest.

“Do you think you deserve to cum on my cock?” 

You know how this works. What he expects. Nothing less than explicit communication, he’d once said. He wants you to beg. And you’re too strung out and tired to think of resisting.

“On your cock, please,” you murmur, “I want to feel your cock stretch me a-and… I want you to cum too. Please?” 

When you feel his grip on your hip tighten, you know you’ve got him.

“Such a  _ good  _ little rabbit, begging for my cock. So sweet… Very well. As you wish.”

His large hands slide beneath your thighs to push them back against you, effectively bending you in half. You feel his hot, velvety tip prod against your opening a few times as Caustic plays with you, savoring the feel of your entrance clenching desperately for him, before he pushes in. With all of his preparation, he’s able to bottom out in a single, drawn-out thrust, which isn’t always easy given his size.

“Alexander,” you huff, chest heaving at the overwhelmingness of it all. He perks up a little at the use of his full, real name. You’re one of precious few who know it, and the only one he allows to use it. He has no regrets about it— doing what he did in the pursuit of his research— but he’ll admit that something in him longs for a certain sense of… recognition from time to time. His palm comes up to cup your cheek, stroking his thumb across the heated skin tenderly. 

“I’m here, dearest,” he all but whispers, his bright green gaze looking over you in what you might dare call reverence. “I’ve got you.”

Caustic doesn’t usually care for such vague and imprecise language, often regarding such cliché romanticisms as empty platitudes for the unrealistic. But in certain moments, such as this one, he finds such broad, sweeping expressions to be exactly what he needs. He wants, no,  _ needs _ for you to feel held by him, in every way you could ever need. Even if in the morning he gets swept up in the fervor of furthering his work once again. He needs you to know that your being far more than he deserves is not something that escapes him. 

His thrusts are slow and deep to start, pushing you into the mattress in a steady rhythm. The smug grin pushes its way back up his face as he begins hitting that place that has you fluttering against him nicely. 

“My good little rabbit, letting me have my way with you whenever I please, without a single complaint… I’d say that’s worth a reward. What do you want?”

“Y-your cum.  _ Ha, fuck-- _ w-want you to cum in me, Alexander!” you plead. You stare at him with eyes that, for all of his callousness and inhumanity, he can never bring himself to refuse. He fucks you harder, not overly fast but still deep, and with how sensitive your pussy is, it’s more than enough to bring you to the edge. You arch your back and cry out in sobbing gasps, not at all dignified, but exactly the result Caustic strives for when he fucks you raw.

You’re almost painfully sensitive now, and if Alexander didn’t have you pinned to completely, you’d be squirming away from his thrusts, which are starting to stutter. He leans further into you, moving one hand to your mound where his thumb finds your clit, the other to your throat where he squeezes just enough so that you can hear your pulse rush in your ears.

“Cum once more on my cock, and I’ll claim you like you deserve.”

Overstimulated, you don’t stand a chance against his ministrations. Tears gather and leak from the sides of your eyes. He presses his mouth against yours, devouring your cries as they leave you without hesitance. When you cum again, your insides fucking  _ milk _ him, just the way he likes, and you feel him spill into you in hot spurts.

His breathing is more than heavy, it’s labored as he practically throws himself off of you to lay at your side. He coughs deeply, and painfully for a few moments, but the fit ends just before you start seriously worrying. He goes through some ragged deep breaths before extending his arm to rest behind your pillows at the headboard. You know him well enough now to recognize the invitation, scooting yourself to his side and pulling yourself up to lay your head on his chest, his arm curling hesitantly to encompass your waist as he considers your crucial place in his world. His voice rasps, a sudden soreness and exhaustion from his performance and his condition. It’s so quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been right next to him.

“You know that I love you, don’t you?” You have to know, for his own sake. He shows you in what meager ways his shattered sense of priorities allow him to. And he needs you to tell him that you know.

“Yes, I do. I do know,” you say. No ‘ _ of course’ _ , no ‘ _ how could you ask that?’ _ No compensation for an insecurity that you don’t have. “And you know that I love  _ you _ , don’t you?”

“Without question.”


End file.
